A Handful of Heaven

"Mr. MacKenna," she said evenly,"let's try to get along,

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thunk.

His lips.

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God almighty, bearer of all light-

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She tried to hold her breath and talk at the same time| "I've come to work."

His head jerked up. He stabbed her with narrowed, anj eyes. "Go home."

"Shall we have this discussion again?" She trailed her forefinger along the nearest shelf top. A thick layer of dust stuck to her finger.

"Just go."

She walked up to the counter. Blowing the dust off her finger, she smiled as the cloud poofed in his face. "No more talking. I'm here to work."

He eyed her daisy-sprigged dress of lavender muslin and snow-white apron with contempt. "Doing what?"

She patted her bucket. "Cleaning."

"No."

"Yes."

His fist slammed hard onto the lopsided counter. A jar of penny nails crashed to the floor. The glass shattered on impact. A dozen or so rusty nails clanged against the weathered floorboards then rolled into the muddy cracks.

Devon flinched.

"No!" he roared. "My tent already smells like a god hospital. You aren't going to do the same thing to my post.

"Our post." She marched over to the huge cask of water sitting just to the right of the counter.

"You can't use that water for cleaning. That's for drinking, You want water for cleaning? Then start hauling it."

She splashed a ladleful of water into her bucket. Then another.

"Goddamn it," he bellowed. "Don't you listen to anyone?"

She flashed him a smile. "No. It appears to be the only thing you and I have in common."

He must have recognized the determination in her eyes, because he scowled and then plopped his furry chin in big palm. "Clean all you want," he hissed, "but say word and you're out." He waited a minute before "Cold."

Chapter Five

She was humming off-key. Way off.